The Man Who Would Be Immortal
by Eigwayne
Summary: Immortality is the goal of most humans, but it is an affront to the one who controls Death. Phibrizo cannot let a soul escape him, even if it means playing a mage's apprentice. Dark comedy, rated PG for the ruthless slaying of an OC.


The Man Who Would be Immortal

A Slayers fic by Elise

Rating: PG for the ruthless slaying of an OC  
Warnings: OCs (although I fail to see why so many people are upset about original characters so that they require a warning... Oh well. It amuses me), OC death, sarcasm, blatant irony...  
Pairings: NONE!!!!  
Disclaimer: Slayers is property of... other people. If you really must know who, check my Phibrizo shrine *shameless plug!* *end shameless plug* because I wrote it a million times on there and I frankly don't remember right now.  
Summary: Immortality is the goal of most humans, but it is an affront to the one who controls Death. Phibrizo cannot let a soul escape him- even if it means playing a mage's apprentice.

**Notes**: This is not really a serious story. Nor is it overtly funny (well, parts of it are...). I had wanted to write a Phibrizo fic- an actual FIC, not a poem- for quite some time, so I started this. Then I let it sit on my harddrive unfinished ^^;;; But I finally got off my butt and finished it, so Voila!! Pre-Kouma Phibrizo goodness. I like to think of this as kind of a dark comedy, so it may not be everyone's cup of over-sugared tea.  
So. As stated, this is pre-Kouma War, so no Lina ;_; and is laden with original characters. But I couldn't help it with a cast of four (six if you count the secretary and the mouse). Trust me, they're no where near as doofy as Daril from my Slayers Retry (but then, he was supposed to be stupid).

****

Phibrizo sat on his throne, idly toying with one of his gold soul-orbs, the long legs of his current form hanging over one arm. Things were going well, he mused. His desert grew steadily, radiating out from his palace. In just a few hundred years it would block the northern peninsula from the rest of the continent. And the Water Dragon King had no idea! Phibrizo chuckled. The Dragon "Gods" were so wrapped up in themselves that they didn't even notice what their enemies were doing. He himself knew exactly where his enemies were. All the Dragon Lords were in their respective palaces, basking in the admiration of their Ryuuzoku toadies and meddling with life around them. They were getting predictable and complacent as well as stupid.

As for his "Family"... Dynast was up at the North Pole, probably playing Risk. Every once in a while, the warrior came up with some really good plans, and he was a tactical genius, but he goofed off a lot between bouts of chaos-mongering. Xelas had subjugated that island of hers, and was setting about making life unpleasant for sailors around her. Dolphin was the one causing the REAL trouble for the sea-going world, though, with her specialized water-demons. And Gaav was out personally wreaking havoc on the budding nation of Elmekia, right on Phibrizo's northern border. Maybe he should pay him a visit...

The clack of boot-heels on the stone floor announced his servants' presence. Phibrizo smiled. Semayle and Mazerim brought him such joy. Their reports were always full of wonderful destruction and chaos. And Semayle always had the best gossip.

His priestess and general saluted smartly (they were such well-trained children!). Mazerim's form was, as always, tall and powerful with dark hair and eyes, and although she wore no armor today, she had a sword belted to her waist. Phibrizo chuckled when he saw the dragons embroidered on her coat. More likely than not, they represented the dragons that Mazerim had slain recently. Semayle, with her white skin and flowing black hair, had the form of an elf. Phibrizo enjoyed the irony in that. Elves loved life more than anything, and were disgusted by the powers Phibrizo used so freely- the power over Death, to create ghosts and undead. An elf serving a Mazoku- indeed, the Hellmaster himself!- was unheard of and delightfully amusing.

Phibrizo sat up straight to hear the reports. Gaav's little campaign was going well. More ships had sunk than sailed near Wolf Pack Island recently. A man from Dalzipar was studying immortality. Dolphin-

"Wait!" Phibrizo interrupted. "Go back! Someone's studying immortality?!"

"Yes, sir," Mazerim affirmed.

"Humans are always studying it," Semayle added. "They're afraid to die."

"How close is this one?"

"He's located in Dalzipar. It's a ways south of us," Mazerim informed him.

"I meant how close is he to discovering the secret!" He clenched the gold ball in frustration.

"Reports say he has only a few experiments to go."

Phibrizo leaped to his feet. "Impossible! He can't! Noone discovers the secret of immortality! Noone escapes ME!" He fussed and fumed and paced, clenching and unclenching his fist from around the gold ball.

"So just kill him before he does and be done with it," Semayle suggested.

"No!" Phibrizo snapped. "I have to find out if he can! His notes must be destroyed! I have to see the look on his face when I tear his victory from his grasp! With my bare hands if I have to!" His face was becoming a very unattractive purple color. Phibrizo just didn't have the complexion for fits of pique, Semayle noted.

"So, just go and get him," Mazerim sighed. It didn't happen often, but sometimes the boss got carried away. Normally when someone was trying to circumvent his power.

"Of course!" Phibrizo cried. "I'll get in good with him, see how he's doing it, then destroy him and his work in one fell swoop! Haha! Brilliant!" He giggled and clapped his hands in child-like glee. The effect was somewhat ruined by the crack of the gold ball between his hands. "Oops." He held out his hands to Semayle, the yellow glass-shards sticking out of his palms.

Semayle sighed and smiled at him before she started picking the shards from his pale skin. He may have created her, but sometimes she felt like the mother around here.

****

Phibrizo waited patiently in the antechamber for the wizard to appear. He'd petitioned for an audience with Felgar Vosk of Dalzipar, and had been left cooling his heels in town for a week even before the appointment was made. His housekeeper had apologized profusely, saying that the Master was very busy and sometimes forgot things.

It didn't make Phibrizo feel any better. He was a patient Mazoku, but this was pushing it. He added "impertinence" to the list of faults he'd started for Felgar. It was the second time it was on there actually. The first was for the whole trying-not-to-die thing. Phibrizo took personal offense to that.

But now he put on the facade of a young wizard, petitioning for an audience with one of his elders. He sat with a mixture of respect for the Master and confidence in himself, careful not to cross the line into conceit. He was an elegant young man, tall and lithe with black hair and eyes whose color flickered from gold to green to blue, depending on the light. It was his favorite form at the moment. His cape marked him as a sorceror, but his outfit of breeches, boots, and blouse revealed him to be an adventurer as well. The slim sword at his hip was merely decoration, for what need did the Hellmaster have for human weapons? Not that Felgar Vosk would ever know this upstart mageling was Meiou Phibrizo...

"Sir," the plump housekeeper said, popping her head into the room where he waited, "the Master will see you now."

"Indeed," Phibrizo said, rising. "I'm on my way."

****

Felgar Vosk was a small man. He was rather portly, to be polite about it, and was balding- a condition not helped by his nervous habit of running his hand over his scalp.

"And how can I help you, young man?" he asked as Phibrizo entered.

The Mazoku paused. That was terribly abrupt... "I came, sir," he responded with a measured hesitation, "in hopes that you would consider taking me on..." Felgar waved his hand, cutting him off.

"I don't take just any mageling as an apprentice, young man," he said imperiously. "What makes you think you would make it as MY apprentice?"

"I have references..."

"Well, let's see them!"

Phibrizo created the false documents on the spot as he reached into a cape pocket. Felgar took them and read quickly.

"I don't care about your raw power," he snapped and placed the first document from "Zhabran Nigdo" aside. He took a moment longer with the next from "Di Nazgrash Eirra" but it still ended up on top of the first, with a disdainful, "You won't need that tactical mind here." "Mario Garahv" also mentioned his strength and skill. And "Deipsi Dahl Finn" spook of his proficiency with summoning skills, which Felgar dismissed as well. 

"You seem to be a well-rounded mage, young man," he admitted. "And your masters all say very complimentary things about your skills. Although I must say that your mother needs some sense. Her choice of the name 'Phibrizo' was in very bad taste."

Phibrizo shrugged. "She said she talked to him once. The Hellmaster was unfailingly polite to her," he said with a grin. He didn't know why he'd given his own name. It had seemed amusing at the time.

"And what does your father say?" Felgar asked, raising an eyebrow.

"In front of her, he just says that he'd BETTER have been polite or, Hellmaster or no, he'd have some explaining to do. Behind her back, he says that she was so drugged up after the labor that Ruby Eye could have been the midwife and she'd have never known. I think she just spends too much time in her laboratory."

"I didn't ask what you thought," Felgar snapped. Phibrizo pretended to be cowed by the admonishment, and mentally added "crabby" to his list of Felgar's faults. "Let's see what this last sheet says," the mage muttered, and turned to the last 'reference' from "Zella Simae Taliam."

And while he is an exemplary student, young Phibrizo has a disturbing fascination with the concepts and properties of Death- a prime example of the perversity in naming children after Evil figures, I'm sure. Still, if one can handle the eccentricity, Phibrizo Masemayrim has the ability to be a fine mage with proper guidance.

Xelas had never spoken like that a day in her life, but she hadn't written the letter either. If she had, she would have mentioned Phibrizo's bad habit of breaking the things he borrowed. Which he was more than happy to keep from Felgar. It wasn't like it was his fault. It just happened....

"You study Death?" Felgar asked Phibrizo.

"Y-yes, sir," he stammered. He was getting in a lot of acting practice, at least.

"Perhaps I could use you," the mage mused. "The study of Death is essential in the study of life. Paradoxes, you know."

"Yes, sir."

"Tomorrow, come back here. We will begin our work in the morning. And bring your notes."

Phibrizo smiled, his eyes glinting. "Of course."

****

The mageling called Phibrizo showed up at Felgar Vosk's tower bright and early, bringing a suitcase full of notes from his studies of death. They ranged from detailed diagrams of the inner workings of frogs to second-hand reports of speaking with spirits. All the notes had been neatly bound and indexed. And were completely bogus, of course.

"You're very organized," Felgar mused.

"It gives me something to do before bed," the boy said, shrugging.

Felgar raised his eyebrow at him. "Well," he started, "I may as well show you the lab." He ran his hand over his head and led Phibrizo down a hallway.

The laboratory was located down in the basement, surrounded by thick stone walls. The door was equally thick and shod heavily with metal until barely any wood showed. The whole thing was laden with protective spells that made Phibrizo's ears ring. He made a mental note to modify them as soon as possible.

Felgar waved his arms and muttered an arcane word, and the door opened.

The laboratory itself was a huge room. Shelves lined the walls, and were covered in books and beakers. A raven's skull sat on top of the beat-up old grandfather clock. Tables were scattered everywhere, ranging from the tiny folding table that currently propped up a heavy book to the huge center table that was large enough to dissect a human on. There were no chairs, though. Phibrizo was only mildly intrigued. He much preferred his halls of blue crystal to any mortal laboratory. But Felgar seemed to be waiting for him to say something, so he murmured a soft, "Wow. Very nice." The mage smiled a little and shooed him into the room.

"We'll begin immediately," he said. "Fetch me that red-bound book from the shelf. The one with the Dresparian runes on the cover." Phibrizo obeyed immediately- not one of the easiest tasks he'd ever had to do. His Dresparian was perfect, but obeying orders? No way.

****

"This was the worst day fo my life!" Phibrizo moaned into Semayle's lap. She had been in his room sitting on his bed when he returned to the inn, and he had immediately collapsed to his knees and rested his head on her lap to commence his whining fit. Which was exactly why Semayle had come.

It was a ritual with his little 'excursions' into the mortal world. He would go undercover as a human to wreak chaos. The first day, he whined about how much he hated it. The second day he moped about why he even bothered. The third day he seethed about how much he hated mortals. Normally the fourth day was a tirade, the fifth was more seething, and then he'd finally kill something on the sixth or seventh and be home for dinner. But as long as he was in the mortal world, Semayle would come to listen to his bitching. Mazerim didn't have the patience. She just went off and killed whoever pissed their master off.

"Semayle, I actually had to fetch and carry things! And I didn't once get near his notes!"

"Maybe tomorrow..."

"Maybe tomorrow I'll just fry his brains in his head! Grr!" He stood, and began pacing. Semayle guessed that this human had irked him immensely, to bring on the seething this early. But then, the Hellmaster had a lot of pet peeves to irk him. Being thwarted was number one, but menial labor was very high on the list. So was obnoxiousness, messiness, and spelling mistakes. Which she'd always thought was weird, because he had at least four different ways he spelled his name.

He kicked a chair, growling. Then he kicked it over onto it's side and smirked at it.

"Feeling better?" Semayle ventured.

"Nothing like a little senseless violence against inanimate objects to relieve stress!" he said happily.

"Too bad. You're very cute when you growl."

"Thank you. I think"

****

It took a week for Felgar Vosk to get through his apprentice's notes and begin combining their theories. Finally. Getting somewhere, Phibrizo smirked to himself. He'd seethed and bitched every night, and had almost called it quits the night before. A pack of brass demons could level Felgar's tower for him, he was certain. But this morning, with the announcement that they would begin their work in earnest, Phibrizo felt a surge of happiness. Sweet revenge was skipping right into his arms.

****

"There are spells to create life, like golems, and those to preserve life in a suspended state. If one were to adapt the spells of preservation to allow movement and thought...." Felgar turned towards his apprentice. They stared at each other a moment. The mage ran a hand over his head, unnerved by the boy's hard gaze.

"I'm sorry sir." Phibrizo said, choking back a smirk. He was so close to his answer, so close to the moment he would finally kill him.... "Was I supposed to say something?"

"No, no," Felgar stuttered. "Of course not. How could you possibly know what I was looking for? Come. We'll try this theory. I believe a have a mouse that will do well for a test subject." Phibrizo watched as the man retrieved a small brown mouse from it's cage. "Take notes," the mage commanded. Phibrizo smirked behind his back, obediantly placing a book on his lap. He opened it to a blank page and readied a quill.

Felgar knew his stuff, that was certain. He expertly cast the spells he wanted, modifying them on the fly to allow movement and thought. He released the energy of the spell. The mouse stiffened like it was shocked, took a gingerly step forward, and froze in place. Felgar swore.

"What went wrong?!!"

"You pronounced 'mitama' wrong." The mage whirled, staring at his apprentice. Phibrizo closed the book with a snap and slid off his stool. "It's mi-TA-ma, not mi-ta-MA. But otherwise, it may have worked."

"How do you know that? You're just an apprentice." Felgar ran a hand over his shiny head.

The boy laughed. "The spell is mine, fool. All spells that touch Death are mine. Those that cause it, those that prevent it. I feel it as each Resurrection tears those souls out of my grasp. Every Laguna Blast brings you closer to me." He smiled cruelly. "Every soul that shatters comes straight to me."

"Phibrizo!"

"Indeed I am." He smiled again, his eyes glinting with gold as he held up a small ball. "And this-" he casually tossed the ball and caught it. "-is Felgar Vosk. This is your soul orb, Master. And if I crush it, you will die. Now. Give me a reason not to destroy you right now."

"Phibrizo, I am your Master!" Felgar shouted, his face red already.

"You don't understand, do you? I am Phibrizo. The Mei-Ou Phibrizo. The Hellmaster. And you have been trying to circumvent my authority long enough." The room was silent except for the sharp crack of the gold orb as it shattered between the boy's fingers.

"You arrogant little-" And Felgar screamed, his word dissolving in agony as he dropped to the floor. Soon, the mage's wailing faded out to reveal laughter. Smug, satisfied laughter. The laboratory flickered with black flames suddenly, making Phibrizo laugh even harder as his dark fires consumed the mage's life work. Felgar saw his precious book of notes fall from the young man's hand into the burning shadows, and all was darkness.

****

Semayle strode into her Master's reception room, pleased to see him lounging on his throne. He still wore the lithe young form of Felgar Vosk's assistant.

"Hello Semayle," he said happily, kicking his legs. "Did you see my fire?"

"I did," she answered. "Mazerim was very pleased with the explosion."

"It was very impressive, wasn't it? I didn't know that magic wards and alchemy tools and my black fire would react so violently." He grinned. Felgar's tower, and most of Dalzipar, had gone up in a tremendous explosion from the fire in the laboratory. Mazoku and pyromaniacs for miles around were quite pleased by the spectacle.

"Look!" the Hellmaster said, hopping out of his chair. He held his hands out to his Priest. "I brought home a pet!"

Cupped in his hands was a motionless brown mouse. It didn't breathe, and it didn't blink.

"Isn't he cute?" Phibrizo beamed. "His name is Felgar. He's going to live forever like that, just staring out of his tiny mousey eyes... Unable to move. Unable to even blink... He wanted to be immortal, Semayle, so I let the poor mousey die, and now Felgar will live in this body." He clucked his tongue and sighed. "And just think, little Felgar, if you'd only pronounced your Drasparian correctly, your body would move." He chuckled softly. "Man or mouse, Felgar Vosk, you got your wish. You are immortal." His chuckle grew into a full-blown maniacal cackle.

Semayle smiled. Phibrizo was so cute when he got his way.

****

Owari!

More Notes: Yay! Phibrizo love! In a weird, Mazoku way. Anyways, I wanted to do a one-shot Phibrizo fic from before Slayers Next, and this is what I came up with. Comments and stuff can be sent be hitting the review button.

No lab mice were harmed in the making of this fic, although one obnoxious mage was doomed to eternal life in an inanimate body =^_^=


End file.
